Chapter 2 - My Man, My Master, My God is Home

2 years ago – Friday 28th February

Valentina

The call came early on Friday morning.

Dianne, my publisher, breathless with excitement and enthusiasm had told me that we had done it. My breath caught…A million...the number seemed unreal for a series that had been out for just a year and a half.

We had sold a million books and had back orders. Told me to check my email and the confirmation of the bank transfer. "Do you know what that means Valentina? For you, for your future?" she asked.

I think I was still in shock. The books had been bringing in a steady income. I hadn't needed to sell any of my mom's paintings for the last eighteen months. "That's wonderful Dianne. You know how important financial stability is to me."

The was silence on the other end and then she sighed. “I know. The next time you open your banking app, you're going to be a millionaire my sweet girl. So cut yourself some slack and live a little." she said on a more serious note.

I laughed. Between her and Livvy, you would think I was a hermit. "I have Nash and he is all the excitement I can handle right now." I told her.

A longer silence. I knew Dianne didn't approve of my relationship with Nash. I couldn't imagine the lecture I would get if I ever let slip about the contract.

She obviously decided today was not the day to dwell on negative thoughts and said warmly..."Your taste in men aside Valentina, I am so damn proud of you Valentina. You deserve this. The Universe is finally cutting you a break.”

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. This woman was like the Grandmother I never had. The only person that would take a chance on an 18 year old with no previous experience. “Thank you Dianne…coming from you that’s everything.” I had said emotional.

As soon as I put the phone down, I started planning everything carefully for the week-end. Tonight, black lingerie from Paris for the playroom. It had been a gift from him.

The outfit was scandalous. Barely there wisps of sheer lace and satin, pure temptation masquerading as clothing. I had never been brave enough to wear it before but this was Nash's day and sexy lingerie drove him nuts.

Especially if I was going to convince him to give me Saturday. My cheeks flushed hotly. I was claiming that. A rare act of bravery and initiative I had never requested before.

But before that…I needed to go shopping and to the beauty parlour. I needed every advantage if I was going to convince Nash about Saturday.

His message came at 6.15pm. *Leaving now. Will be there at 7. It’s been a long hard week, can’t wait to be buried in you baby.*

I stared at my phone even after it darkened. My cheeks were beetred. No one could accuse Nash of being romantic. But to me those words were like Roses and Champagne. That was more than he ever said via text. Normally it was *Will be there at 7. Be ready.*

My heart gave a hopeful flutter. Did he miss me as much as I had missed him?

My heart hammered against my ribs as I kneeled on the polished floor of the lounge, in the *present* position, head bowed, the black lace bra and panties hugging my petite frame.

I had braided my hair, just as he liked, the strands falling over one shoulder, and waited for the click of the lock at seven. The apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator, and every second stretched thin with anticipation, the cool air tightening my nipples in their lace casing.

I heard a click and then door opened. This was the moment I lived for each week. When the ache of loneliness and the emptiness of the apartment was silenced even for a short time.

And I could finally breathe easy again, because he was my air.

Because my man, my Master, my God was home.

From beneath my lashes, I watched Nash step in, his shoulders broad, his jaw clenched from the weight of a difficult week. His eyes widened when he saw me at the entrance instead of the playroom door.

I could feel the heat of his gaze like a physical touch as they swept over me. A low growl rumbled from his chest before he even spoke. “Fuck Valentina” he muttered, voice rough. “That’s how you welcome your Master?"

"In black lace that could make a monk sin?" He barked a laugh. "That's my Good girl.” He crossed the space in two strides, fisted a hand in my braid, and yanked my head back.

And then his mouth crashed down onto mine, teeth nipping my lower lip, tongue delving deep as if he he couldn't get enough of the taste of me. Plunging, duelling, conquering like a starving man offered a banquet and that had decided to swallow me whole.